In the Stiles of the Night
by Symphonichowl
Summary: Episode 1 and 2: Stiles fantasizes about Derek, Derek has a hands-free experience about Stiles. STEREK PWP. UPDATE - Episode 3: Three months have gone by so fast and Stiles' birthday is here. Costume is required, as is alcohol and some friendly perspective about a certain 'Miguel'
1. Episode 1: In the Stiles of the Night

A/N: This is my second story published here but my first try at a bit of Sterek PWP. Any comments would be most welcome but please try for constructive comments so I can improve. There may even be a 'In the Heat of the Night' depending on how well this goes down.

* * *

In the Stiles of the Night

Stiles had been slammed against the warehouse wall for the fourth time in an hour, Derek breathing viciously over him. "Are you determined to make me rip your..."

"Throat out?" Stiles completed the sentence which, if still terrifying, had become the catchphrase between him and the Alpha. "Jeez dude, I'm not your go to for frustration release or, at least, I hope I'm not. I'm just giving you all the information I have on the Alphas like you wanted. I didn't make them come here and it's not my problem you don't like the facts."

With this Derek released him from the powerful grip, allowing him to slide down the wall and sit, crossed legged on the floor. His back was killing him but he knew it wasn't the pain of permanent damage, just bruising. He zipped his hoodie right up to the neck, maybe Derek could not grab hold of it again if the young man said something the older didn't like.

It also reduced the likelihood of Derek seeing the claw marks on the delicate flesh of his chest, he knew that if the Alpha discovered the damage his guilt may cause him to do something counterproductive. It's not like Stiles cared, this was for Scott and Issac, and Boyd and... okay, so he did care at least a little.

The shift of material brought Stiles' focus back to the now crouched Derek who was peering at him with a mixture of confusion, frustration and concern. "I know. I'm sorry Stiles. I.. I can't seem to get a handle on this Alpha shit. I lash out too quickly and at the wrong people."

"Dude, this is you all over. I've now lost count how many times I've been slammed against this wall, my bedroom wall, school walls, trees, do I need to continue?" Stiles watched Derek's expression change with each example until he had shaken his head. "Well, I think I have had enough of slamming for this evening, we both need to get some shut-eye, big research day tomorrow. Gotta have enough energy for the slamming tomorrow."

He had tried to say it as a joke but the Alpha just stood, helped the younger man up and walked over to stand looking out of his window. Derek didn't even turn when Stiles said goodbye, he just stayed rigid seeing the world outside unfolding into the night, turning his attention only when he heard the sound of Stiles jeep coming to life and watched until it was obscured by the buildings of Beacon Hills.

He pulled his gaze back to look at his reflection in the window and allowed his thoughts to race from asshole to idiot, monster to victim, and then back again. Stiles, human and vulnerable, had given his time to help Derek on countless occasions and he'd thanked him by crashing his frail body on repeated occasions into solid objects. He looked at his hands in disgust and was surprised to see something dark and slick on his fingertips.

His eyes grew wide, he'd hurt Stiles, cut into his flesh when he'd lost his temper and his focus. In that moment, he knew he had to go to Stiles and apologise, to help him tend the wounds if he would let him.

* * *

Stiles had pulled up to his house just 20 minutes later, he was pissed at Derek but he couldn't stay angry at him for long. He knew that Derek struggled with being the alpha especially as his guiding hand, his family, were no longer around. He was glad Cora had come back into her brother's life but he did not know her enough to trust that she would help him and not be the hindrance that their uncle is.

He let himself into the dark house knowing that his father was pulling a double, if not triple shift, at the station with the increased attacks caused by an unknown source. Stiles knew the source, but he was certain that telling his dad a pack of werewolves lived in Beacon Hills and a transient pack of alphas had come to coerce the resident alpha to join them by slaughtering his own pack, would result in his dad calling his ADD Consultant to increase the dosage.

Stiles did not mind being on his own, especially on nights like this, it would be helpful not to have the questioning glance of his dad on him when he pulled on full pyjamas, on a midsummer night, to cover his battered body. Now he could strip down and enjoy the caress of cool air that came through the window of his bedroom.

Slipping out of his clothes, leaving just his boxers on, Stiles got comfy in his office chair and waggled the mouse. The laptop buzzed back into life to bring him back to the web page he had been consulting before the call from Derek to get his ass over their to discuss what each of them had found. It was research, he argued with himself, he did need to know about the mating behaviour of wolves in case the alpha pack decided to get frisky. It was certainly nothing to do with the emotionally complicated Alpha living just a few miles from him, the one who he had just walked out on, the one who had marked him.

He brushed his fingertips over the shallow gouges caused by the hint of Derek's claws and winced as the flesh was tender to the touch. It began to arouse him, knowing that these marks would be on his flesh for a few days, possibly a week, maybe more if he didn't look after them.

He allowed his hand to slide across the cuts again, enjoying the sting of pain which made his cock throb with excitement. He imagined Derek there pinning him against the chair, folding his claws deep into his flesh. His breath quickened as he imagined the Alpha leaning in close to his neck and breathing in his scent, the memory of Derek's body heat completing the illusion of the fantasy now tentatively stroking, exploring, tugging on his body to raise him to a full stand.

The hands were his own, he knew this logically of course, but his imagination caused his hands to feel heavier on his flesh and his stump fingernails felt like the claws gently grazing. He stretched his body out to half sitting, half lying on his chair as his hands began to move down his chest. Curling his fingers to allow their nails to brush softly at first before dragging them across his stomach. He arched to the touch and allowed the gasp to escape his open mouth.

He focused on the imagined eyes, that had bored into him on previous occasions, staring hard as the Alpha's hand tickled down the soft hair which created the path of his treasure trail. The Alpha was obviously lustful as the hand dived quickly into his boxers and squeezed the now raging erection.

"Please," he begged in a hushed whisper to the mirage. "I need it."

With that the strong hand began to pump his pre-cum leaking cock in a blissfully sweet but painfully slow pace, he toyed with the younger man. He liked to make Stiles moan and buck and plead. The hand around his cock picked up pace at his thoughts yet all too soon it slowed once again.

His body began to shake with pleasure, twitch with the desire to come, as he squeezed his eyes tight shut ensuring the image of Derek to strengthen. The body of the older man was heavenly and hellish, it brought a new moan to Stiles' mouth as he watched him stripping off his shirt to reveal the wide expanse of muscle, toned and hard.

"Touch yourself" he commanded and was relieved as his lust controlled Derek's hand to slide over his body as the fingers of his other hand pulled at the zip of his jeans. Stiles squeezed his own hand around his cock again, causing yet another moan, as the image pushed a hand under the material and began moving. Stiles could only guess to the movements of this hand on the concealed dick but, by the way Derek's body was rolling his hips, the touch was welcome. He could hear the hiss of breath rushing through the currently human teeth, gritted against each other to disallow any other sounds to escape.

Stiles wanted to hear him moan, wanted to hear his name formed by his lust-focussed creation, but the image was so intense that he allowed it to play out as he began to work his hand harder on his aching cock. His balls felt tight but he refused to come yet, he wanted to keep Derek working on his own body as each hidden stroke caused his body to respond. He could hear that his mouth had slipped into dirty talk, it was further arousing to hear himself loose control so absolutely that his mind just pumped out the words.

"Fuck... yeah, that's good. Oh fuck, yeah... Keep going, oh god you're hot! I want you, want you to fuck me... Want you to suck me. Yeah, you like it. Fuck."

Thankful that no one was around as he didn't think at this point he could stop the tirade of filth coming from his mouth.

"Oh fuck yeah... Stroke your dick, yeah! Faster... God, harder!"

He could feel the tingle in his body, unmistakable as his balls began to tighten further. He knew he was close and was not willing to hold back any more. He arched his back, working himself in time with the vision, running his free hand across the marks on his flesh and that was it.

Stiles came with the feel of pain caused by Derek, the scent of him still staining the flesh. It pushed him further into ecstasy until there was nothing but Derek's face, feel, smell, the pulsing of his own cock as the cum spilled out of him over his stomach until he flopped back into the chair.

He half lay there, his eyes half open, lost in the world of his orgasm as he continued the gentle pulls on his spent cock eking out the feeling. His heart was hamering against his rib cage and his breath was short and shallow bursts but he was in bliss.

* * *

The born-wolf had seen it all, had watched the young man tease and torment his body with the wolfs name on his lips. He was there to apologise but Stiles seemed to be getting off harder from the cuts in his body. It took all his restraint for him not to smash through the window, show him what carefully applied pain could do to further heighten the young man's experience. But this was a personal moment between Stiles and his imagination but it gave Derek images for his own use later that night.

He smirked at that before slipping off the siding of the Stalinski house and running into the darkness of the forest behind. He needed to think, he needed to plan. It was not his place to approach Stiles, he was 3 months under-age and much younger than Derek, but if those were his fantasies Derek would certainly give him enough to play with. With that, the half smile was unmistakeably feral as he vanished into the night.


	2. Episode 2: In the Heat of the Night

A/N: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, followed and favourite the first episode. You have no idea how much it meant to me but also gave the kick to write this next episode, possibly a few more but hey, no pain no gain right?

My love and thanks to my co-writer - GreyWolf (not a publisher on this site), without him there would be far to many errors to count, far to many sentences unfinished and we should all thank him for putting the idea for the inclusion of a 'shower' scene. Enjoy!

* * *

In the Heat of the Night

Derek ran through the trees with flashes of memory keeping pace with his movements. The way Stiles had arched his body, undulating in time with the movements of his hands, using the marks on his chest to immerse himself deeper into his fantasy. It was a wondrous sight, arousing Derek's own needs and desires but at the same time he was conflicted, shocked by his own response to finding Stiles like that. He should have left when he realised what was going on but he had been frozen, strangely fascinated by Stile's oblivious performance. When it had become clear that he was the subject of Stile's fantasy he had felt a surge of excitement so intense he'd had to suppress an overwhelming urge to howl, shift and join in.

Now, as the distance between him and Stiles grew, his thoughts turned inwards as doubt began to creep it's way through. Derek had never been attracted to a man before, had never had to think about his sexuality, had just assumed he was straight. He began to wonder whether it was because of the stress he had been under. Could this purely be a need for release? He began to muse on the feelings he had experienced for Stiles and the tingling sensation of attraction. Had this pull been building for a while? Had his need to disconnect from everyone around him blinded him to what was going on? Is this why he kept slamming Stiles into any convenient objects?

Sure, he had fucked other women after Kate had destroyed him, picked up in bars or clubs, but this would be different. Stiles, although he was human, had become an integral part of the pack for more than just a go to for research. A connection had formed between them, perhaps even a bond, and if this should progress Derek doubted he could simply pay for a taxi to whisk Stiles out of his life for good. Yet, he realised, he did not want Stiles out of his life. He groaned at this thought. Why Stiles?

Of all potential people, why did it have to be Stiles? Stiles, with his uncoordinated, flailing limbs, that had held him up in the pool after the Kanima had paralysed him. Stiles, who talked incessantly, often about what he had found out for the good of the pack. Stiles, always getting himself in to dangerous situations, always being there for him.

Stiles was like day and night, a walking, talking, wanking contradiction playing with Derek's emotional balance. It had taken him almost double the time to get back as he moved at human pace. The cool night air had helped him to remain focussed and calm the thoughts buzzing round his head. Derek had hoped that the steady pace would give him a chance to work it out. He still wasn't certain what he was going to do even as he entered the empty loft.

He shrugged out of his leather jacket as he walked into his home and started to relax. Then the scent, Stiles' scent, hit him like a punch in the nose. His legs seemed to take control of him and he strode, without pause, over to the wall where just hours ago he had grabbed and slammed Stiles' lithe body.

He'd suspected Stiles was, in some way, allowing the slamming to continue but Derek had thought it was just giving him an outlet for his frustration. A conversation had already happened so Stiles was well aware that, should Derek actually mean it, his neck would be snapped before he even knew it. Stiles seemed to have actually taken comfort in that statement, oblivious to the danger and focusing only on the realisation that Derek did not really want to kill him - with his teeth or other parts.

The bulge of his dick pushed against his jeans, straining against the fabric, as Derek braced against the wall breathing in the lingering traces. The flood of memory seemed to cause Stiles to materialise out of the scent, his bright brown eyes staring into Derek's own. He encouraged the image and manipulated the scene into what he had witnessed. He replayed Stiles arching his back, forcing his cock through his fingers.

The memory of the words that had tumbled out of the younger man's mouth, made him buck against the imagined form in front of him. He grunted with disappointment when his bulge hit against the solid wall instead of warm flesh. This was not a good plan, dry-humping a wall was less than satisfying and pretty undignified for an Alpha even if it did reek of Stiles. He pulled back but allowed his fingers to brush the stone that had soaked up the scent then drifted those tips under his nose.

Stiles was on his fingertips, the smell of musk, arousal and hyperactivity seemed to curl it's way into his body. He flicked open the other hand, claws extending and tore his shirt off his body. One for the memory banks, as he realised just how much he would like to do that to Stiles, he was certain that the young man would moan with pleasure and help to further enhance his arousal. The mere thought was certainly aiding Derek as the bulge in his jeans was now becoming painfully hard.

He glanced at his claws and decided that, although he had a myriad of tops, he only had a few favourite pairs of jeans so tearing through them was not an option. He sighed in frustration and took the time to carefully and delicately peal them off his body. The feel of the fabric sliding down his legs was sensual, taking more time than necessary to discard them over his shredded top.

He stood there, naked, allowing the cool air to whisper over his burning skin; werewolves ran hot but they burned hotter when their bodies were stimulated and that was something Derek certainly was. He remembered the words breathed through Stiles lips, telling the vision of the Alpha to touch himself. His hand moved obediently, slipped around his girthy dick, squeezing it to elicit a rush of pleasure through his body that escaped out of his open mouth in a hushed gasp. The feeling was incredible, heightened by the thought of Stiles manipulating his own erection to the fantasy of Derek. He glared at the wall of scent, wishing he was there telling him what he wanted, that he wanted Derek. Wanted Derek to suck him, fuck him, cum in him and make him cum.

It was torture to be in the room with the tormenting wall, he needed to be somewhere the heady scent was not so strong or else he might loose himself back to the home of that tight flexing body. He used his will to make his way through his bedroom to the bathroom, turned on the shower and immediately forced himself under the spray. The contrast between the heat of his body and the chill of the driving water was invigorating, the drumming sting both refreshing and stimulating him.

He reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before liberally applying it over his pecs and torso. The touch of his hands gliding over his naked flesh was a welcome feeling and, as he brushed his over-sensitive nipples a groan rolled from his mouth. He caressed, rubbed and flicked at them, enjoying their sparks of pleasure which seemed directed down to his now rock-hard cock. Taking up the soap again, he created further lather and allowed one hand to return to play on his nipples, as the other continued it's journey down his body.

Derek ignored his aching, throbbing dick, following the fall of his hip instead and running his hand between his thighs. Slowly, his hand crept up till it reached his balls as he smoothed his palm over them, then softly over the erogenous zone between his balls and his ass. He threw his head back, toying with the mass of nerves, enjoying the way his cock responded to the feelings as he focussed on the memory of Stiles.

It had surprised him that Stiles was such a dirty little fucker, the way the words had spilled so naturally from his mouth. It suddenly occurred to Derek that maybe it wasn't the first time Stiles had got off using him. The thought was tantalising, he caressed his balls to the beat of the words from Stiles' dirty talk, desperately at war with himself, the urge to take his cock and proceed to the outcome had begun to be overwhelming. He arched, then curled, into the pleasure rolling up his back as he deviated his touch between his taint and his balls. This state of being, with the image of Stiles fucking his own hand, was bliss to the point of pain as he continued to deny his leaking dick.

He was engorged with lust and his body continued to responded to his touch, he was whining like a puppy denied of it's treat. The splashes of water on his naked form had warmed, Derek angled into them using the rivulets, cascading over his muscles, as if they were human touch. The tickle down his torso was intoxicating causing him to rhythmically thrust alternating the jet between his chest and his groin.

Derek imagined that the surging sensation over his raging prick was the soft mouth of the young man, sucking on him until it tipped him over the edge. He had toyed with his body long enough and welcomed the tightness of his abdomen, the pull of his balls preparing and finally the sweet searing singing of his body as he came.

The orgasm tore through him, shifting him and freeing a primal roar that ripped from his very core. The roar subsided as the last of his cum spilled on the shower's floor, his brain sparking and he returned to his human form with deep controlled breaths, relaxation now flooding through him.

Derek stayed under the massaging, soothing water enjoying the post orgasmic bliss. Although his body was sated, his mind replayed the nights events exploring the revelations and implications. This had been Derek's first experience of same-sex attraction and had led to his first hands-free ejaculation. He had let himself immerse fully into this strange set of circumstances that had led to a harmonious connection of his primal nature and his conscious self. It allowed no room for grief or guilt, no chance to worry about the Alphas... it was pure.

The tug of his lips curving was an unfamiliar feeling to him, he had certainly smiled at times throughout the last 8 years of misery yet this was different. The grin on his face was transferring to his body, from head to toe he could feel the joy saturating into his entire being. He felt cleansed. He was at peace for the first time in longer than he could remember and it was all down to that monkey geek. He knew right then that he could not deny this night, he would not reject it, not box it away and pretend it had not happened. Derek would not push Stiles, he would not confess his feelings and he certainly would not tell Stiles of what he had seen or done but he was not going to let this go.

His focus was on one simple fact: Derek wanted Stiles as much as Stiles wanted Derek. He had work to do, he needed to plan his seduction of Stiles, to construct opportunities to tempt him into succumbing without even a word shared.


	3. Episode 3: In the Birthday of the Drunk

AN: Sorry about the wait but this took 4 re-writes from different perspectives, with different things happening in each try, finally ending up with what is below. My love and thanks as always to GreyWolf for his help. Just to clarify that in the UK you can drink from the age of 18 so I have applied this to the story. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

In the Birthday of the Drunk

Three months later and finally the big event had arrived. Stiles had determined that, as he was turning 18, he would do it in style and by that he meant having the whole weekend for himself being in some kind of drunken haze with his friends. The Sheriff had been meaning to go fishing for sometime now so it hadn't taken much persuasion for him to agree to leave just after noon on the Saturday, Stiles' actual birthday. He had of course done his fatherly duty, having a stern talk to both Stiles and Scott about what being a 'man' meant, the need for responsible drinking and, the height of embarrassment, safe sex. He wasn't exactly sure what his dad thought this party would entail but he had begun to hope that it would include all the worrying details most likely swimming round the Sheriff's mind.

The day had begun in the best possible way - pancakes with smoke bacon and maple syrup followed by opening the joker-inspired card from his dad. Scott had come round at 10:00 to hand over his batman card, they knew him so well, and began planning the nights party. The time quickly ticked round to noon so Stiles thanked his dad for a great birthday morning, promised that he would lock all the valuables away, agreed to pay for any damages and helped pack the Jeep with his dad's stuff. The Sheriff had never used the teen's Jeep before but his cruiser would be needed in Beacon Hills and, if Stiles was about to get as drunk as he thought his son would, it would probably be safer. Out of mind, out of sight kind of thing. At 12:09 precisely, Stiles and Scott had stood out on the porch, waiving at the Jeep until had left their line of sight before whooping with joy and running back into the house.

It took the pair of them two hours to remove all of the possible breakable items from the house, wrapping them in paper, packing them away in boxes and placing them in the garage for safety. The house looked a little cold without all of the Stalinski photos and ornaments however this was quickly livened up with a selection of full size cut outs of Batman, Robin, Green Arrow, Superman, Supergirl and all the other lovely DC characters. It had taken a lot of begging and pleading to get everyone to agree with the Comic book theme party however, when he thought he had no chance, people had just started lining up with ideas.

He was happy, happier than he had been in a long time and refused to allow the absence of McScowl-Wolf to dampen his spirits. Speaking of spirits, when he had walked back into the kitchen he had been amazed by the note pinned to the fridge. His dad had written a note informing him that he had left a bottle of vodka in their freezer ready for the party; it was only a small bottle, probably to reinforce the responsible drinking, but it was a great way to begin.

He cracked open a bottle of cola, grabbed two glasses and poured an equal mixture of both the cola and the vodka. Probably a little heavy handed but him and Scott had been working hard getting the house sorted. He carried the glasses, tinkling with ice cubes, into the lounge and the grin of his face widened till it hurt. Scott had hung a banner with the words 'Stiles is Batman' plastered across it with the logo at either end. It was perfect.

They got the X-Box going and played for a couple of hours, wincing with the sips as the alcohol burned their throats, however the buzz had begun to de-evolve the pair into the 7 year olds they were when they first met. The ring of the doorbell cut through their giggling and Stiles ran, excitable limbs flailing, to the front door. Allison, or should I say Catwoman, was the first to arrive brandishing a magnum of Champagne from her dad and a bottle of Tequila from her. Danny's Two-Face and Lydia's Harlequin were not far behind bringing with them cocktails of all colours. Issac arrived as a very scary Riddler and Boyd followed him in as possibly Street Thug Number 2 or maybe just himself with the addition of a number of bandanna. At this point Stiles didn't care. It was his birthday and six people were here to celebrate that monumental fact.

Boyd handled the music, most likely to keep himself out the way, but his bobbing head and slight smile proved that he was actually enjoying himself. Scott and Allison were making googly eyes at each other and Stiles had a thought that he hoped they decided that his bedroom was not an appropriate place to rekindle their relationship.

The drink kept coming, the music kept playing and the dancing continued except Stiles had hit a moment whilst heading to top up his pink cocktail that tasted like strawberries. He was missing those red eyes, those strong arms, those firm hands ... he groaned as he splashed the liquid into his glass. He felt soft pressure on his shoulder and hoped beyond hope that the Alpha's eyes would meet his own as he turned round yet the eyes were not that of Derek's the question mark in each of them proved that.

"Riddle me this," whispered Danny. "Who is making the birthday boy sigh like that?"

The chatter of girls moving towards the kitchen gave Danny the encouragement to pull on Stiles elbow to lead him out the door into the backyard.

"Danny, do you think I'm attractive?" mewled Stiles with a slight drunken slur. Danny rolled his eyes and huffed, "Stiles, I'm sorry but I have a boyfriend..."

"No, no, no," cut in Stiles. "I mean, do I have any attractive qualities? I mean I think I'm cute but do you think I'm cute? Am I cute to other people? To De...others?" Stiles flopped into the swing chair and gazed at Danny with pleading eyes.

"Okay, you really want to know?" Danny waited till Stiles nodded his consent. "Yes, Stiles you are cute, you are attractive, you're not my type, but I can see that you have qualities that 'others' would like. What's going on?"

Stiles rested his hands in his head, breathing slowly to control the tension but Danny was the perfect person to talk to about this. He could speak to Scott but firstly he wasn't sure what his best friends reaction to his lusting of Derek would be and secondly Scott was into girls and only girls. He decided he would test the waters and, thanks be to Bacchus, the alcohol was helping to break through his brick walls of fear. "There's a guy. He's sexy, powerful, dangerous but in the right way, I can't stop thinking about him...mostly at night...in my bed...at my desk...in the shower."

"I get the picture Stiles so who is he? Is there a mutual attraction?"

Stiles simply groaned "I can't say" and "I don't know" in answer to Danny's questions. "Okay," Danny continued perching by the side of Stiles. "Tell me about him, the way he is around you."

"That's just the thing, there was nothing from his side and then, almost three months ago now, he began to change his ways around me. The first time I thought I could just write off, I had arrived at his l..place to ... chat like usual at the normal time and I walked in on him. He was sweaty, probably just back from a run or something, he still had his headphones in but he was half naked, rolling his hips. He was running a towel over his body and..."

"Okay Stiles, I've got the mental image thank you. I can see why you would write that one off, could have just been an oversight on his part and had let time get away from him. So what happened the second time?"

"Well, it was later on that night. I was making us some coffee but I couldn't find the new bag of grounds, when I called out to him that I couldn't find it. He came into the pantry, I was on my knees searching through the bottom cupboards and he leaned into and over me. I swear I was gonna have a heart attack. One turn of my head would have had me at crotch level. He pulled down the bag of grounds and left for me to carry on."

"Stiles, you can't read into that. I mean," Danny raised his eyebrow "both of these situations were obviously sexy as all that to you but that doesn't mean the guy likes guys, likes you. It just means he's comfortable with himself and obviously around you too.

"Great, sounds like I'm an old sweater." Stiles grumped. "But there's more. A whole lot more. Just a few days later I was showing him stuff on my laptop. Instead of sitting next to me he leaned against my back with his mouth so close to my ear. Then there was the time we were all round his home, half way through I mentioned I was hungry and he just picked up Issac's plate and handed it to me. Just like that, no questions asked."

"Oh, so your guy is this Derek I keep hearing about. He seems like a great guy, taking in Issac after...well, after everything that had happened to the guy."

"Yeah, he is a good guy. A great guy actually but he doesn't see it in himself. But could you not say his name again? I don't want any of the others to find out in case it gets back to him and he's all weird."

"Sure Stiles, so what can we call him instead? David, James, Karl.."

"Why don't we call him ... Miguel?" Stiles chuckled out whilst waggling his eyebrows, it took Danny a second to work out what the hell Stiles was going on about until finally the penny dropped and his mouth sagged in amazement as Stiles continued.

"Anyway, 'Miguel' has just seems more touchy-feely, he's done that leaning thing a few times. He's rested a hand on my leg when we're in the middle of conversations. He does this thing where he likes to push me against a wall when he's angry but on the last time I swear he was smelling me. I mean..."

"No, I totally get it. A man's smell is a big turn on. There maybe hope yet. Go on."

Stiles drained his glass "Not without a refill first, hell I think I'll just grab the bottle."

* * *

He had checked in on the party to find that Scott and Allison were no where to be found so they wouldn't be wondering where he was. Lydia hadn't left the makeshift dance floor all evening and was currently wrapped in Issac's arms talking about the possibilities of supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. Once Stiles returned with both the bottle of pink stuff and the half drunk bottle of Tequila, the pair settled down a little further down the garden to continue Danny's analysis of the situation.

"He's been noticing stuff too, like when I wear this one aftershave, he always moans that it's too harsh. I don't douse myself in the stuff but he just can't stand it. He always comments when I wear my Batman Tee but hates it when I wear my check shirt."

They share a few shots as Danny weighs up the new information. "It sounds like he has good taste because really, you need to burn your shirt collection and that Batman T-shirt you have fits you nicely. Yeah, I've noticed, I doubt many others wouldn't. I'm still not convinced either way. Any thing else?"

Another shot for courage and then Stiles replied, "I keep catching him watching me, not in a stalker way, but when I'm at his. He watches me as I arrived, he watches me as I've left, he's watched me as I pace about thinking..."

"He could have just been looking," interrupted Danny. "Seeing you arrive and leave as a good host should. The pacing about could just be him waiting for you to calm down and reveal what you have thought of. Any chance you've caught him check out your ass?"

"Danny!" laughed Stiles as he playfully slapped him on the arm. "But now that you say that... I've never caught him staring at my ass but his eyes do seem to travel all over my body like he's sizing me up."

"That is hot, and a good sign that there may actually be a glimmer of attraction from his side. Anything else to report?"

"Well, he...erm...he's really into wolves. You know, wolf culture and behaviours. I did some research on hi..it and it is amazing. But, he...there's no other way to say it but... I think he's started to preen me. It began with a bit of fluff on my coat, then it was a stray eyelash on my cheek, a fleck of something on my jeans. Each time he just removed it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. So what do you think"

"Hmmm." answered Danny

"Hmmm?" questioned Stiles and knocked back yet another Tequila shot. "What the hell does hmm mean?"

"Hmm means I'm not sure." responded Danny sympathetically. "It's difficult. He hasn't been overtly flirting but from what you said about the wolves things it could make sense. But there is only one person who can answer it for you. You need to speak to Miguel."

"I do?... I DO!" Stiles jumped to his feet, posing in his Batman costume. "No time for your riddles, it's time for Batman for seek the truth. To the Bat-Mobile!"

Danny caught hold of his leg with a drunken swing causing Stiles to butt-plant on the floor. Thanks once again to alcohol, Stiles didn't feel the bump that would surely leave a bruise for tomorrow. "What're you doing?"

"Seriously Stiles, you wanna go over there now. On your birthday. While there is alcohol still here? And you're drunk! You can't drive, your dad took your Jeep. How ... please explain how you're gonna get there?"

"Ahha my riddley friend! There is a service out there just for my needs! I shall call a Taxi!" Stiles carefully took time to stand without dropping on the floor again, raised his fist in the air and walked out the side gate as he pulled his mobile out of his Bat-Utility Belt.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Batman arrived outside the loft. He luckily had just enough money to pay the nice Taxi man who had listened to the rambling teen from his home to the home of what sounded like the man that the teen both hated and loved. The nice Taxi man had wished Batman best of luck, to which the Batman saluted him and disappeared into the building with a flash of his cloak.

Batman made his way up the four flights of stairs, cautiously as the teen was getting a little dizzy in the head, towards his goal. He reached the sliding door, pausing to knock, but decided against it and flung the door to the side. He sauntered into the loft's open space, took a deep breath in and:

"DEREK? OH DEREK!?"

And there he was, Derek. Half way down the spiral staircase, glaring at the masqueraded teen stood in his home. Stiles just beamed with a warm and, what he though, was a seductive smile at the sourwolf. "What are you doing here, Stiles?"

"I'm not Stiles," replied the teen as he flexed his voice to drop in a few tones. "I'm Batman!"

"You're not, but you are drunk. So I repeat, what are you doing here?" Derek edged down just a few stairs further towards him but did not leave the staircase, he needed the escape route for the benefit of Stiles.

"I want to know if you..." Stiles slurred, shook his head and refocused. "I want to know if you want to fuff me."

"Fuff you?" asked Derek, knowing full well what Stiles meant but he wanted to hear it from his lips.

"I want to know if you want to fuck me!" spat out Stiles as clearly as his addled brain would allow.

"What do you want?" Derek's voice was hushed with a lilt of desire. "Tell me what you want?"

"I want you to want to fuck me. I want you to want me the way that I want you. I want you." Stiles had just allowed the words to flow from his mouth towards Derek. The fact that he followed the words with a rather loud and disgusting smelling burp did not detract from the way Derek received them. He had been waiting for three whole months to have Stiles come to him, it was his birthday today so he was now legal, finally there was nothing holding him back...except that Stiles was drunk. Very drunk. He told Stiles so.

"You're drunk, you need to go home, sleep and come back tomorrow when you're head is clear. Scratch that, come back in a week after your hangover is gone."

The pout on Stiles face was too cute for Derek to miss-read, the teen was hurt by what he had obviously taken as rejection. He rolled his eyes and extended his hand, "Fine, you can sleep here and tomorrow, if you are lucid, we will talk."

Stiles' pout turned quickly to joyful grin as he meandered over to take the strong hand which led him up the stairs, along the corridor and into Derek's bedroom. His head was starting to get outrageously foggy and there was a rolling in his stomach that was becoming uncomfortable. Derek steered him over to the bed and helped to lay him down, sliding off his boots and utility belt. He muttered something about Batman needing those things for crime fighting but the words were washy with sleep. He pulled at the costume that had begun to constrict him and was relieved when the shaped rubber was pulled off his skin. A soft layer was draped over him and he felt the bed shift slightly as Derek positioned himself near but not close enough to touch.

Stiles began to drift with the feeling of Derek's soft breath brushing over his cheek, hoping that he will be able to keep the vomit now trying to claw it's way up his throat, as he fell unconscious.


End file.
